


(Monster) You Made Me

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Death, Demons, Eternal Life, M/M, Monster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: You are the pulse in my veins.





	(Monster) You Made Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustofwarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/gifts).



> For dustofwarfare, who indulges my demons. <3

You are the pulse in my veins.

Even now, as I stare at my hands—one clothed in leather, the other an impossible mess of talons and gold-tipped mechanical nothingness, I feel you thrum through me, your voice high and delighted, your laugh in my brain seared into all its pathways like electricity.

My reflection is haggard, my skin sallow, and even when I become the beast and thrash against the glass, your eyes watch hollowly and you scribble notes and I fear the most that time when you leave.

I am a mess of a man. There is no rest from what I am.

“Your beloved,” I hear you spit to her. “Rotting away.”

It wasn’t long ago when you were telling me I was beautiful. Now you look at me with disgust. The shell of a man. Tear it down piece by piece.

I still love her.

I still love you.

That’s the worst part in all this.

My demons want to devour, to rage, but it’s all useless.

You’ve taken my breath. I expect to fog the glass, but my chest is still, the bullet hole closed up over my heart which lies dormant, the Y incision where you autopsied my body angry like fingers prying flesh asunder. I still remember waking up screaming, your arms covered in blood up to the crease of your forearms, carefully measuring my organs. My cries did nothing. Your lips turned up and you sewed me up one careful slow stitch at a time as I pleaded with you to let me die.

But I was already dead.

The space between us echoes like a forever nightmare.

My life is a nightmare now. An undeath. An unlife.

I used to shudder under your touch, fall apart for you.

Now I am in pieces and you put them there, don’t care to put them back together.

I used to study your profile, the way you inhaled the smoke from your Wutaian clove like a secret prayer meant only for me and her. The way your dark eyes always traveled back to mine, their inky depths holding meaning for me, your hair spilled over your shoulder disheveled with passion. How I loved your hair down, your glasses set aside, your eyes sensing my shapes, my curves and my angles and putting it all together with long calculating fingers.

Now you tear me apart.

I sleep in fits and starts, surprised I still need this, but I always wake up in a living nightmare.

The monster in me cloys at my flesh from the inside out, laughs at me in the same way you do. Deeper. Darker.

You toss me rats and I drain them of their blood, snap their bones, delighting disgustingly in the crunch.

I have become the rat king. You call me this, laughing.

And then one day you bring me a small child and I want to help, I want to soothe, but I am a haggard thing and the child screams and cries. The beast awakens and I rend flesh from bone, delight in the satisfying way blood pours from my mouth.

Just kill me. Just put me out of my misery.

You sneer. Tell me I am already dead. There is no escape. No sweet remorse.

I am a monster.

Your monster.

 

 


End file.
